Together, Not Alone
by Rasler-Heios-Nabradia
Summary: Marquis Ondore is leading a second life somewhere far from Bhujerba. Rated T tentatively-may change in later chapters. Slash fic, Ondore/?. No OCs. Read and Respond.
1. Chapter 1

Few things in life pleased Marquis Halim Ondore IV more than a classic novel or a good debate with his advisors. Oftimes, he'd disagree with something that he, under normal circumstances, might have said himself, just to instigate an epic debate that would more often than not cause one of the level headed Rebe to storm from the room, frustrated at his leader's difficultness. This would bring the Marquis temporary amusement, but he would always lapse back into boredom later, wondering vaguely of what the _other side _was doing.

Years after the Marquis' death, his more private journals would be discovered locked away in his chambers, musty from years of neglect. Curious historians would read of the _other side _and theorize, the most commonly accepted theory coming to be that this _other side _Ondore so often spoke of was an imaginative escape for the man who never seemed to take vacations. Quiet Rebe would reveal nothing of Ondore's private life, and it was only Lady Ashe, Queen of Dalmasca, who knew the truth of Ondore's life beyond the public eye.

The _other side _was not, in fact, an escape for his imagination, or even a world he dreamed up in all his immense boredom. It was a real place he was frightened to refer to by name, lest reporters swarm and overwhelm the people living there. They had been far to kind to the Marquis all these years to warrant that, and, knowing that he was a documenter and would have all of his writings looked upon so seriously, was very careful in his wording.

On this particular day, he was more melancholy while thinking of his secret life than normal. Out there, he had the potential to be truly happy, and yet it wasn't quite enough to cause him to resign from the throne. He cursed this miniscule need for power, but as he thought about it, wondered if it truly was a lust for power, or if it was something else. If he were to resign, he would have to produce an explanation to the people. What if something was deduced and he was caught in a lie? Would he be thrown in prison? Would they track him down and interrogate him? It surely wasn't a lust for power, because Bhujerba was only a city-state, and would likely never grow past that.

He retired to his chambers midday to be alone, and commanded that he be left alone unless there was something dire that needed his attention. When an envelope was slipped under the door, he seized it with a mild annoyance and ripped it open. It was from none other than the Queen of Dalmasca, Ashelia.

His annoyance faded immediately as he read the letter to himself, a warm feeling spreading through his chest at the girl's words.

_My Dearest Uncle Halim,_

_How long has it been since last we met? I miss you terribly and wish that I could have come to deliver this message in person, but it has become a burden to leave the castle unless the circumstances are extreme. _

_I know that you are asking a thousand questions of me in your mind, and the answer to the most prominent is no, I have not yet found a suitor, nor do I plan to. I do, however, visit my husband's tomb every day and remind him that I am still his, and I will see him again someday, and I will not be tied to another man when that day should come._

_I must confess that this is not a letter written at my leisure to check up on you. A confused note came to me just the other day from someone who did not know how to reach you directly. They wonder where you are, where you have been, and if you have plans to return home._

_Perhaps you could plan a trip to Rabanastre soon? _

_With much love,_

_Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca_

_XOXO_

He folded the letter and placed it in a pocket within his overcoat and strode from the room. His attendants, waiting outside, hurried to keep up with him. "I plan to travel to Dalmasca on the morrow," he said loftily. "Have the airship prepared before sunrise, as I will be leaving when light first breaks."

He blatantly ignored the attendants' inquiries as to why exactly he was going to Dalmasca and chose to leave them baffled. He grumpily told himself that they should know these things by now, that he and the Queen were friends. Finally, they gave in and asked him where in Dalmasca he wished to land and he told them Rabanastre. "I will be visiting Lady Ashe," he said sternly. "And I will hear no arguments on the matter."


	2. Chapter 2

As a young man, Marquis Ondore had been far too uptight. He checked, rechecked and checked a bill again before he would even bring it before his advisors for discussion, would refuse to hold audience with anyone save for the Kings and Emperors of foreign lands due to his minimal time, and would finally crash into bed at night and wake up too-early in the morning. By the time he was 25 years old, he had the beginnings of age lines around his eyes, and an almost deadened look within them.

His good friend, the new king of Dalmasca, finally intervened.

"You are doing exactly what you promised you would not," he said as they walked the gardens together one evening. "You said that you would not overwork yourself and become a tired husk like your father."

"I am _not _a tired husk," Ondore said, but his protest fell on deaf ears.

"You've not made any time for yourself," the king said loftily. "You spend each and every day so absorbed in the smallest affairs of your kingdom that your advisors are more than qualified to take upon themselves, that you still walk unmarried, even."

"Not this again," the Marquis sighed, falling a step behind the king who merely chortled.

"My wife wonders when you plan to take a spouse," he continued. "She has some fair sisters."

The Marquis' face contorted with a look of horror and shock. "Uh?! Your Highness, I do not think…"

"Oh, very _well!_" The king sighed and turned to survey his young friend carefully. "Then at least take some time for yourself. You're starting to look older than your years, and that concerns me very much."

The Marquis sighed. "As you wish. But I am uncertain as to what you would have me do," he said grumpily.

"Go someplace out of the ordinary," the king said, grinning. "You must be curious as to what is out there, beyond your little sky city."

"Not entirely," Ondore said grumpily.

Raminas sighed. It was not uncommon knowledge that while the Marquis was tolerant of other races, even implementing an equality law in the city-state, they still made him nervous. Seeq and Baanga tribes flooded into the city and kept the young Marquis off the streets.

"'Tis time to open your doors, Halim," the king said. "Times are changing, and quickly. Educate yourself."

For at least another year, Ondore completely ignored this advice. He didn't see a reason to change. His people loved him, he was fair, and he brought up issues that mattered. But once a month, he received a letter from his friend, Raminas, that reminded him of his shortcomings. He felt ashamed, being told to grow up by one of his closest friends.

Finally, he wrote to Raminas, asking that the good king suggest to him some places to go for some time off. _I wish to meet different people, _he wrote, _and to find a sanctuary at the same time._

Raminas returned the letter, urging him to fly to Rabanastre at once. He would take him on a short journey, the destination a surprise. Reluctantly, Ondore obeyed and found himself on his way to the Royal City itself.


	3. Chapter 3

"Raminas, no," Ondore was begging. "I cannot stay. I must return at once, this was a mistake."

The king sighed a bit at his friend. "This will be good for you, Halim," he assured. "Calm down and make the best of it."

"I cannot stay here," he pleaded. "Please, 'tis just that…well there is…there is no…"

"What? There are no Humes prancing about? Aye. You need to separate yourself from that for a while, and perhaps a long while at that. I have requested that your duties be divided among your advisors, and that you will not be returning for several weeks."

"You did _what?!_" The Marquis whined, looking maddened. "I cannot—wait!"

But Raminas had dug his heels into his chocobo's side and tore off, not looking back. Ondore turned and stared out at the expansive plot of land. Two warriors of unknown race stood watching him, amused, though Ondore would not have been able to tell through their conservative masks.

_And what horrible masks, _Ondore thought to himself. _Do they realize how terrifying they look?_

He paced outside of the gate for a few moments, occasionally glancing at the two warriors to see if he yet had the courage to approach them. He would have to stay until Raminas came to his senses and returned to get him, as he didn't know how to ride a chocobo, and couldn't survive the journey back to Rabanastre on his own.

Finally mustering up his courage, he marched to the warriors and cleared his throat. "Good evening," he said, but immediately lost whatever he was going to say next somewhere in his crooked train of thought.

"We welcome you to Jahara, Marquis Ondore," one of them said, his voice deep and gravelly. The Marquis started a bit. "We are the Garif. We have a tent prepared for you at the request of King Rami--"

"A _tent?_" The Marquis said, indignant.

The two Garif glanced at each other, and the Marquis could have sworn that one of them chortled.

"We assure you that the tent will be suitable to your needs, and that you will have your privacy."

He wanted desperately to protest, but he knew it would do no good. The whole village was composed of tents. They led him in, one in front of him and one behind, and for a brief hysterical moment, Ondore believed that they might be taking him hostage.

Finally, he calmed down. Something about the village felt different, in a pleasant sort of way. The air smelled…_nice. _That was the only word Ondore could think of to describe it. It was clean, if a little dusty, and the faint smell of livestock gave it an interesting odor. A couple of Garif were wrestling and laughing, surrounded by a gaggle of cheering onlookers.

"What is that?" He asked, pointing to the scene.

"War-Chief Kadalu and his younger brother, Supinelu," the Garif behind him said. "You'll meet them before long."

"Where are we going?"

"To meet the Great-Chief," the Garif said, his voice returning to its amused pitch.

---

The Garif Great-Chief made Ondore more than a bit nervous. His mask was far more ornamental and extravagant than his peoples', and he didn't seem to move.

When Ondore sat before him, he started a bit when the Chief turned his head upward to look over the Marquis.

"Marquis Halim Ondore IV. It pleases me that you have come to visit our village. I wish you would have done so sooner, perhaps as a child."

Ondore fidgeted. "As a child, Great-Chief?" He asked.

"A child's mind is a tablet to be written upon, to have ideas and beliefs inscribed upon it. I have heard from King Raminas that you may not be as tolerant as you would like to be."

Ondore lowered his eyes, for the first time feeling guilty and extremely humbled by the Garif tribe. "I…that is true," he said quietly.

"Then we will do our best to teach you," the Great-Chief said, leaning back slightly. "If you are willing to learn. You are welcome here for as long as it may take, and longer. You are a welcome guest among us."

"Thank you," Ondore said quietly, bowing his head.

"Now stand up. You'll filthy your clothing, and I am afraid we do not have the funds to replace such rich robes."

Ondore blushed furiously, hopping up and brushing himself off. "I would never…"

"Of course not," the Great-Chief chuckled. "Go with Ereilu and Goromu. They will show you to your tent, and you may settle in."

This time, Ondore did not protest. He thanked the Great Chief and stood, moving to the two young Garif with his head down. The one called Ereilu patted his shoulder. "You do not have a strange diet, I hope."

"Huh…?" Ondore managed, looking up.

"The Queen of Dalmasca does not eat meat," Goromu said. "And so, when she visits with the King, we must all eat only vegetables." He looked annoyed by this. "It is not good at _all._"

Ondore had to chuckle at this. He shook his head then, brightening. "No, I eat meat."

"I am surprised to hear that you eat at all," came a new voice, shouting. Ondore and the two Garif turned to see the War-Chief and his brother approaching. "I've not seen a Hume so skinny," he said.

"Ah, but haven't you?" Goromu said, jostling the War-Chief.

"Hmm…perhaps the Queen."

Ondore huffed again, his indignity returning.

"Supinelu, he is like you," Kadalu said, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders. "He cannot take a joke."

The other Garif looked grumpy.


	4. Chapter 4

On the flight to Rabanastre to see Ashe, the Marquis had ordered a cup of black coffee. The nervous waitress carried it to him, her hands jittering madly. When she reached him, he said, "Thank you, sweetheart," and it startled her so badly that she spilled it down the Marquis' front.

He hissed-it was hot-but the girl fled, wailing. He stared after her, bewildered, and then moved to the bathroom to change his shirt and then back to the café where he insisted on getting his own cup of coffee.

These events had him grumpy by the time that they landed, and he ignored the greetings of the Rabanastre's aerodromes workers and the people, the common Humes, trying to get his attention.

Thankfully, an entourage from the palace arrived after a second and he moved quickly to the castle where his niece was waiting to throw her arms around him. He hugged her tight and pulled back, examining her at arms length. "You look far too beautiful."

"And you look far too young. Time appears to have stopped for you." She grinned at him and tugged his hand. "We have much to talk about."

She led him to the dinning hall where they sat together with a bottle of wine. Ashe waited for him to ask his questions.

"Have you seen them?" he finally asked.

"Oh yes. I've snuck out a fair few times to take my shoes off and run with them." She smiled and lifted her skirts to show her knees, presenting a glowing bruise on her right shin. "I took a fall."

He laughed and sat back. "How are they?"

"They miss you." She shifted, staring at him anxiously. She had something else to say.

"Yes, milady?"

"Why do you not step down? There is an heir behind you, your cousin, to take the position, and they would be so happy if you just went home."

Her words struck him and he leaned back in his chair again to think about it. He'd had permanent residence in Bhujerba his entire life, and as a young man, he'd been terrified of leaving the house. But now, his home was with them, and yet he wouldn't stay. He returned to Bhujerba each time.

"Perhaps 'tis time I did," he said thoughtfully.

"Leave after midnight," she told him. "You can make it there by morning."

He did leave just after midnight. He changed his clothes, leaving his "rich clothes" and dressing in brown and dusty white robes, his head covered with a scarf, save his eyes. A guard might have taken him for a night thief. The thought made him laugh.

He vaulted onto a chocobo with a bit of help from one of the stable boys, and he rode expertly into the Giza plains.

He arrived before dawn, but the Garif were already starting to move around. He was greeted by one of the youngsters, a Garif called Asdalu. He helped the Marquis down and bounced on his heels. "It has been a long time, Marquis."

"That it has," he said, dusting himself off and unwrapping his face. "Where is the War-Chief?"

"Still asleep. He is feeling the effects of age, lately."

"Ah, who isn't," the Marquis said thoughtfully and walked through the village, waving at the Garif that he had come to know so well, and stopping to meet some of the newer, younger ones that may not have known him as well. Asdalu kept near him, obviously watching him for signs of fatigue.

"You have grown, Asdalu, since I last saw you."

"Five inches and sixty-seven pounds," the Garif bounced again, looking particularly proud of his gain.

"Good Gods!"

"Goromu is angry. I am significantly larger than he, now." He had his chin pointed up, and the Marquis could only imagine the sunny smile painted on the youngster's face.

"Are you staying out of trouble?" the Marquis asked as they neared their destination.

Asdalu hesitated, looking timid, then simply said, "No."

Ondore laughed, patting the young Garif on the shoulder and moving to enter the War-Chief's tent. "Say hello to Goromu for me, Asdalu."

"I will be sure to, Your Excellency," the Garif bowed.

"Please. Not here. I am not royalty among your people, Asdalu." He smiled softly, leaning on one of the sturdy posts that supported the tent.

"Very well, Halim. I am going to hunt now…any requests?"

"Yes, actually," Ondore said, and Asdalu looked surprised. The Marquis usually ate whatever was cooked without complaint.

"The last time I was here, someone thought it clever to prepare serpent. I refuse to ever eat anything remotely similar to that again."

The Garif snorted in laughter and waved, then turned and departed.

War-Chief Supinelu started when he felt a hand slide from his neck to behind his ear. He looked up and calmed, lifting his head and shifting over so that Ondore could sit beside him.

"Finally decided to show yourself, hm?" His eyes seemed to smile at Ondore and the Hume grinned and then swooned a bit. "Careful," Supinelu muttered, helping him lay down. "You have been up all night."

"Always pointing out the obvious," Ondore smiled. Already the man looked exhausted. He closed his eyes and smiled when the War-Chief put an arm around his waist.

"Someone has to," the Garif muttered. "Else we would all forget the obvious."

Ondore laughed and closed his eyes. The Garif had rolled off of his horns and onto his side, and Ondore tucked his head under Supinelu's chin.

"Sleep as long as you need," the War-Chief whispered, his sharp-nailed hand sliding up the back of the Hume's neck, into his hair. "I shall see you when you wake."


End file.
